


The Beauty and the Phantom

by Nejihina100



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejihina100/pseuds/Nejihina100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not anger the Phantom. It was the advice her mother gave her about the man that lives in the catacombs of the opera house, she will soon learn that he is far more vengeful than she could ever imagine. Now she must decided one of two choices. To marry Viscount Gaston so her, her mother, and the performers have a place to live...or the Phantom. But one choice just might be more deadly than the other. Loosely based on Phantom of the Opera</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the Aria

The streets of Paris were busy as ever on that cold Friday morning in October, as a horse drawn carriage stopped short in front of the Opera Populaire, the grand opera house. The door opened as two gentlemen, dressed in fine suits as one could come by when entering into the business of the arts, stepped out and took a pause to awe at the beauty of the building.

“This is it my friend,” Victor slapped his companion’s shoulder and gestured at the building, “our new start.”

Francis looked skeptically at Victor, sighing, “Perhaps we will have better luck than we did in our junkyard business.”

“Scrap metal.” Victor quickly retorted. It was a mistake his friend would often make, but often times in a friendly banter.

They had bought the opera house from a Jefferson, who wished to relieve himself of the business. The two men had never met the previous owner before, as they only communicated through letters and proxies, but were told that he could no longer keep up with the work. Whether by age or experience they didn’t know, but being men of passion for the arts and money, they saw it as a great chance to begin again after their failed endeavor with the scrap metal business.

After taking in the view of the building which would become their new home for business, they walked up the stone steps to the double doors. If only they had known that the outside appearance was only diminished by it’s even grander beauty inside. The wide double staircase that met in the middle as one was carved in fine marble, with statues of well-sculpted women in dark wood placed at the ends of the banisters. Intricate designs were carved above the arches of the doorways and openings on the second floor, and several miniature light fixtures were placed between those arches to offer a secondary light source to the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

The two men stared at the beauty as they had done so moments ago outside, only to be interrupted by a voice behind them.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

They turned to see a young man in his late thirties, dressed as a man of higher status. He offered his hand as he introduced himself.

“I’m Jefferson. The owner of the Opera Populaire. You must be Francis and Victor.”

Francis was the first to shake his hand as he smirked, “You’re Jefferson?”

“That I am.”

“Well I must say, I’m shocked.”

The man known as Jefferson smiled, “How so?”

“We did not expect you to be so young? How did you come by this business, may I ask?”

“Not at all. I inherited the opera house from my father, whose own father had built it. I guess you could say it belongs in the family.”

“And you wish you to give it up for two old fools as ourselves?” Victor joked.

Jefferson chuckled. “Well, let’s say that growing up here I have had my fair share of the art. It was never stated in my father’s will that I had to keep the place. However, I did do good by the old man by making sure it was in good hands before I left.”

“And we are happy to take it from you.” Francis smiled.

“Jefferson!”

The three men looked up to the second level from which the voice was heard and saw a slightly younger man walk down the stairs in a slightly hurried pace. He was tall with dark hair, but had more build than Jefferson.

“Monsieur Francis, Monsieur Victor, I would like to introduce you to Viscount Gaston de Sanglier. It is thanks to his family’s great contributions that the opera house has been able to continue running and performing shows, and that those performers have a place to live.”

The men shook hands, each pleasured to meet the other.

“It’s great to meet you Viscount Gaston. We’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I’m sure you have.” He smiled.

“Why don’t we gentlemen head towards the stage, so we can introduce the performers to their new owners?” Jefferson offered.

He lead everyone through the opera house as they headed backstage, so Francis and Victor could get a sense of their workers environment. When they arrived they were thrown into the noise of orders from those in charge of the dresses and props, giggling from the female dancers, and the loud drums of the music as a singer stopped to complain about her dress being too long. Jefferson stepped onto stage and clapped, calling out to the maestro to stop the music, hoping to get everyone’s attention.

“Senor, please, we are rehearsing!” The maestro complained, albeit politely.

“My apologizes Maestro Antoine, Madam Emile,” he looked towards a middle-aged woman who was stretching offstage, “if I could get everyone’s attention.”

He waited for the music and the voices to die down until everyone’s attention was on him.

He cleared his throat, “Thank you. Now I know that most of you have heard rumors of my retirement. I will now tell you...that they are all true.”

Exclamations and accusations were murmured across the crowd but settled down when Jefferson held up his hand.

“Please, thank you. I would like to introduce to you Monsieur Francis and Monsieur Victor.” Jefferson gestured towards the two men who waved at the performers to make clear of their appearance. “They will be taking my place as the new owners of the Opera Populaire. Also, I would like to assure you that the Viscount will continue to fund the opera house so you will all continue to have a place to live.”

The last bit of news was met with shouts of joy as the performers went about to continue their rehearsal. A woman, who was dressed in a rather outlandish costume for their ‘Hannibal’ production, walked up to the new owners and held out her hand, which Victor did not hesitate to take and kiss the top of. When Victor leg go of her hand she turned towards the Viscount next to him and giggled, batting her eyelashes. He smiled back at her and also took her hand, kissing it slightly longer than Victor had done.

Jefferson suppressed a smile, “This is Manette Bibaeu, our leading soprano.”

She cleared her throat.

“And our leading lady in our new production.” he continued.

“So nice to meet you,” she grinned widely at the men.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” Francis smiled back. “Would you please allow us to hear you sing?”

She have a low giggle, “Of course. Maestro!”

She yelled towards the man, who nearly jumped at her command. “If my diva commands it.”

“Yes, I do.”

Manette made her way to the center stage as Madam Emile made her way to the gentlemen, helping them find the right spot to stand and watch as dancers began to flow onto the stage. They watched as they gracefully moved and the music played, waiting for the soprano to begin singing. When she did it was a high-pitched tone that was needed for an opera singer, but not quite refined, making it ear piercing to the men. Neither Francis nor Victor showed their discomfort and applauded as Manette continued to sing. They turned their attention to the dancers, noticing a couple of faces that stood out.

“Tell me, who is that blonde dancer there?” Francis leaned towards Madam Emile.

“That is Mae. She is one of our best dancers.”

“And that little brunette.” Victor pointed towards a heart-shaped face girl.

“Belle,” Madam Emile answered, “my daughter.”

“Emile. I thought that name sounded familiar. Are you two by any chance related to the great violinist Maurice Emile?”

“My late husband, yes.”

“My apologizes for your loss.” Francis gently smiled.

Madam Emile, Colette as the dancers knew her, returned the smile and looked back at her daughter, “Thank you. She lost her father when she was young. We have been living here ever since.”

They watched the rehearsal as Manette continued to sing when suddenly screams were heard and a back drop fell on top of the young soprano, blocking her from half of the performers.

“AH!” She cried out. “GET IT OFF ME!”

The men and actors rushed towards her as Jefferson looked up towards the counter weight system above where the fly crew worked, calling out, “Jacques! What in God’s name is going on up there?!”

The bearded man could be seen pulling on ropes, making the backdrop lift off of Manette, looking down and answered, “It wasn’t me sure. I swear! There was no one there.”

Commotion began as the Francis and Victor looked at each other, not noticing Colette and Jefferson’s worried expression.

“And if there was...well than, it must have been a ghost.”

Gasps were heard from nearly everyone as the new owners simply groaned. They had heard about the ‘ghost of the opera house’ or as it also went by, the Phantom, when they set out to buy the place. But neither believed in such a thing, and they still didn’t.

“Good God in Heaven, there is no such thing!” Francis called out.

“Perhaps.” Jacques muttered from above.

Jefferson turned towards Francis and Victor and sighed, “Good luck men.”

He began to walk off when Francis stopped him. “You’re leaving? Now?”

“Yes.” He simply said.

“May I ask what exactly you are retiring for? You’re far too young.”

Jefferson grinned. “My health.”

He left the stage of the Opera Populaire for the last time with another word, leaving the new owners to worry and argue of the quite recent event. Gaston helped the singer up and no one noticed Madam Emile walking into the shadows of the backstage, watching an envelope slowly fall down.

Manette let out a cry of frustration and marched up to Francis and Victor.

“No no!” She pointed a finger at the now confused and nervous owners, shaking it to emphasize her point. “This is the last straw!”

Maestro Antoine and various actors groaned and heavily sighed, having dealt with the diva’s moods before.

“What?” Victor looked at her, “You can’t be! You’re the leading soprano!”

“I don’t care!”

Francis laid a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her, but she only pushed it off roughly. “Please Senora, you must understand. This was merely an...an-”

He looked towards Victor hoping for some sort of answer when he replied, “An accident!”

“Yes! And accident.” Francis grinned.

Manette stared at the men, shocked, “An accident?! No! This, was the third accident...this month!”

She poked a finger into Francis’ chest. “And since you’re the new owners, you fix it! Until then, I am gone!”

She stormed off, yelling and ordering at the few workers who worshiped her feet, and left the stage. Francis and Victor looked at each other wide eyed, not sure what to do next. Madam Emile walked up and handed them the letter that she had picked up.

“What’s this?” Francis asked, taken it from her and reading it.

“It’s a letter. From the Opera Ghost.”

“The Opera Ghost?! Of God in Heaven, you’re all obsessed!”

“He says that his monthly salary is due,” she explained, ignoring the Francis’ shocked look, “and insist that you leave Box Five empty, for his use.” She pointed towards the seats high above in the theater, showing the one mentioned in the letter.

“Salary?!”

“What do we do now?” Victor nearly panicked. “We have a full house and no singer!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something. She can’t just leave, can she?” Francis looked towards Madam Emile, who merely shrugged her shoulders. The Maestro however was frayed, having just lost their only singer for the night’s production.

“Well surely there must be an..an...an understudy!”

“An understudy? An understudy? For Manette Bibeau?” The Maestro nervously exclaimed. “There is no understudy for Manette Bibeau!”

“Belle can do it.” A calm voice spoke.

Everyone looked towards Colette who had spoken. She standing next to her daughter, who was shocked not only by the recent events concerning Manette and the backdrop but her mother had so casually offered for her to sing. She was a dancer, not a singer, and even the new owners knew that.

“Her? But she is a dancer.” Victor said, as if it was a pointless effort on Madam Emile’s part.

“Perhaps,” Gaston interrupted, “but she also happens to be my fiance. I think it would do the company well for her to be on stage, don’t you agree?”

Colette spoke, trying to get the men on the more important issue at the moment rather than business, “She has a beautiful voice. And she has been taken lessons from a great teacher.”

The two men looked at the daughter, as if trying to see in her appearance if her mother was right.

“Who is your teacher?” Francis asked.

Belle opened her mouth, hesitant to speak. She wasn’t use to all this attention, especially when it was from the new owners of the opera house. “I’m...um, I’m not sure. I never met him.”

“Let her sing for you.” Her mother quickly interjected, as if her daughter’s answer would turn the owners against the idea. “She has a beautiful voice.”

“She certainly is pretty.” Victor whispered in Francis’ ear.

Francis sighed, “Very well.”

Colette nudged her daughter closer to the center stage as the maestro took his place in front of the podium, sheet music and baton ready.

“From the beginning of the aria, mademoiselle.”

The men stepped aside once more as the music began to play again. Belle opened her mouth and sung the first words of the song. Suddenly, as she continued to sing, everyone in the room and on the stage made their way closer to the girl as the owners stared with their mouth wide open.

It was beautiful. Her voice was as soft as a bell and it flowed without any hitch, unlike that of Manette’s. It was the perfect level of tones that reached the high notes without piercing everyone’s ear and gave a sweet seduction tone when touching the low notes. Everything was perfect and they could see that Colette spoke true, if it wasn’t an understatement. They had just found their new soprano. And in time for tonight’s gala.

After the song finished, everyone applauded and cheered and those who had stuffed their ear with cotton before Manette began her solo, nearly cried in sweet relief to hear such a beautiful voice for perhaps the first time.

“Bravo!” Francis and Victor cried out, applauding the girl.

“She’s wonderful!”

“We have found our new soprano!” They called out, receiving even more cheers from the performers.

Belle was suddenly taken off stage in a hurry to get her ready for the night’s show, since she would no longer be a dancer. The owners and the Viscount went off to celebrate not only their first day but their assured success of their new Manette Bibeau.

When the stage filed out and became nearly empty, Colette made her way into the shadows again. She clung onto the letter, making sure not to be seen by Jacques who liked to linger backstage and watch the dancers change.

She slipped into the hallways and behind a drape, which concealed a hidden door. Gently closing the door behind her she made her way down the stone covered corridor, ignoring the cobwebs that hung in the corner and the darkness that sought to suffocate her.

Minutes passed as she came to a turn but she halted in her fast pace. There he was standing in the shadows, the familiar silhouette of the Phantom.

“Rumplestiltskin.” She quietly muttered. It was not for the cautious of being heard by others--although the stones echoed throughout the corridor, they did not reveal spoken words to the outside--but rather the slight fear that would always grab her when she laid eyes on him. Even if he was a friend.

“Finally.” He spoke. “Belle is where she belongs. For now.”

Colette held her breath. She knew what he meant. “What will you do now? With my daughter?”

The Phantom didn’t say a word and for a moment she feared he had not heard her. Which was a ridiculous notion being where they were and she knew he didn’t like to be asked the same question over and over.

“ I will continue to train her, as I always have. So she will rise to become the Prima Donna she deserves to be. And as long as you keep your bargain, she will be taken care of.”

Colette gulped. “Of course...old friend.”

But he didn’t answer. He had already left into the shadows of the opera house.

* * *

That night, spectators of all different statuses swarmed into the opera house having heard news of a new soprano that would rival Manette Bibeau. It was the show of the week and no one wanted to miss it. The new owners made themselves known, welcoming everyone and meeting with the higher end of the classes. They made sure to always speak fondly of Viscount Gaston, who had also joined in the night’s entertainment as he always sought to do.

Backstage the performers were all running left and right, hurrying to get their parts ready before the curtains were raised. Belle was in her dressing room--which was actually Manette’s but Belle had be given it since the former was no longer part of the production--nervously finishing her dressing. Her mother was tying the corset of the dress when she noticed her daughter’s breathing.

“Are you alright child?”

Belle glanced at her mother in the mirror on her table. “Yes mother, I’m alright.”

Colette finished tying the strings. “It’s alright to be nervous. This is your first time singing on stage.”

“Or to anyone for that matter.”

They didn’t speak about it. Belle had told her mother stories about the Phantom that visited her at night when she was a child and while any parent would be worried for their child, Colette had simply offered her daughter advice.

_Do not anger the Phantom._

Whenever Belle asked her mother if she knew of the man that lived in the shadows, Colette always paused before answering no. But Belle knew the answer.

When Belle was finished getting dressed they made their way to the stage, and Colette watched on the side as her daughter sang the most beautiful arrangement of a song they had only heard Manette sing before. The crowds offstage and backstage watched with held breaths and awed eyes. Her friend Mae was standing next to Madam Emile feeling pride in her friend she had never felt before, and Colette took one last look at her daughter before leaving once more.

The song ended and after a moment of pause to take in what they had just heard, flowers began to be thrown on stage in graceful manners. Cheers of bravo were heard and Maestro Antoine could be seen nearly crying in his performance, an expression he had never shown with Manette. Francis and Victor applauded from their seats in Box Five as Viscount Gaston, who sat in Box Four, watched Belle on stage. He stood up and left the box and into the hallway, passing down the stairs. He hadn’t noticed the figure of a woman who quickly hid behind a shadow as to not be seen by him as he made his way outside and into the night.

And no one, but one, knew of the Phantom that was hiding beneath the shadows who had listened to music that came from the dancer’s soul. He let out a breath as it was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. Oh how he loved that girl.

He turned, noticing another presence, to see his old friend again and it was clear she was proud of her daughter as well. He held out his hand which held a red rose with a green ribbon tied to the stem, offering it to her. But Colette knew it wasn’t for her.

“Give this to Belle. She deserves it.”

Colette took the gift and looked up at the Phantom’s shadow, for she never did see his face anymore. It was always covered behind the mask and the darkness. He was always more comfortable that way.

“And I will be seeing her tonight.”

Colette wanted to tell him that Belle needed rest after such a grand performance, but he wouldn’t listen to such things; reminding her once more that despite the new owners and the Viscount’s generous funding, the opera house would always be the Phantom’s.

* * *

TBC

Yes, I am calling it the Beauty and the Phantom because it is two in the morning, and I used all my creative juices for every word of the chapter (I really put my heart into this one). And because I can.

Please Review!! Reviews are like Christmas and Birthday presents to writers and as I said, I really put my heart and love into this story, even if it’s not done yet, so I would love to hear what you have to say about it. Thank you. :)


	2. The Stranger in Her Dreams

A few hours had passed and the opera house and its residents were still celebrating after the night’s performance. The halls were crowded with dancers and actors who were drunk and passed out, if not already, and some were celebrating in forbidden desires in the shadows of the halls. Mae made her way through the crowds looking for the star of the show. She found Belle in one of the sanctuary rooms, lighting a match for her father. She knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her knee.

“Belle, you were perfect.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you.”

“You have to tell me, who taught you to sing so perfectly?”

Belle looked up from her hands in her lap, “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“I’ve never seen him before. I have only ever heard him sing at night when I would go to bed.” She gave a soft laugh at the idea. “Maybe it’s just dream. I’m not sure.”

“You’ve always been a dreamer.” Mae smiled. “Perhaps that’s why Gaston fancies you.”

Belle looked down at her hands, not wanting to think of _that_ man. “Gaston isn’t much of a dreamer.”

“But he does fancy you.” Mae said factly.

“Perhaps.” Belle thinly smiled.

They continued to talk about the show, the opera house, and their friends. But it wasn’t until Mae spoke of the Opera Ghost did Belle begin to pay attention. Did she know him, or was she like everyone else who had only heard rumors? Belle wanted to tell her how she would heard singing at night and always felt a presence about her, but she knew what would happen. She had told Gaston once but he merely rejected it, telling her she was filling her head with silly dreams. He told her to focus on more important issues, such as their upcoming marriage and the life they would make for themselves. A life she didn’t want.

It was getting late and Mae finally managed to bring Belle out of the sanctuary, although knowing how important it was to her. Belle left to her dressing room and waited, but she didn’t admit who she was waiting for.

* * *

 

Colette escaped the shadows and made her way to the dressing room her daughter had been given since Manette had--as far as they still knew--left the show. She held the rose in her hand and gently knocked on the door, but did not hear her daughter answer. She opened the door to see Belle sitting at the vanity, but she wasn’t looking at herself. Colette walked up and touched the girl’s shoulder, slowly bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, mother.” Belle gently spoke.

Colette held out the rose she received from the Phantom. “This is for you. From someone special.”

Belle gave a sad smile, knowing who it was from. He always gave her a rose after a performance, even if she only danced.

“Thank you.”

Colette brushed some lose strands from her daughter’s face, gently lifting her chin to look her in the eyes. “He is very proud of you my dear.”

The two women only smiled at each other. Whenever the Phantom was in the midst of the conversation, or if he was the conversation, there was always a tight air between them. Belle couldn’t understand why her mother wouldn’t accuse her of such silly notions like Gaston, but she could always sense a bit of fear in her mother and it didn’t make sense.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and they looked to see the Viscount entering, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“May I enter?” he smiled.

“One would ask before they enter.” Colette glared at the man, but not so her daughter could see.

Gaston chuckled. He walked up and placed the flowers on a table as Colette passed him leaving the room, ignoring the poisonous disdain he felt.

“You were wonderful my beauty.” he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

Belle smiled, wondering how she could ever feel so sad with her fiancé. “Thank you Gaston.”

“You should have been on that stage before. Come, we’ll celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yes,” he looked at her as if it was a silly question, “it is what everyone else is doing. And you are the star, my Belle, you deserve to celebrate this grand night.”

She looked down at the rose. Gaston was right. It wasn’t right for her to be held up in a room all night, waiting for someone who might never show, while everyone else was drinking to her success. If nothing else, it would help keep Gaston off of other women. Oh she knew he wasn’t faithful in that regard, but he did care for her very much. He would always put her first to the other women he slept with if she didn’t deny him the night.

“Very well.” she agreed.

“Wonderful,” Gaston stood up, “I’ll get us a horse and carriage ready. It will be waiting for you when you step outside. You must get ready.”

He gave her another kiss and left the room, not noticing that shortly after, a gloved hand reached out and slowly turned the key, locking the beauty inside. Belle had not heard the door lock as she sat and ponder what to do. She gave the rose one last look before placing it on the vanity as she got up to change for the night.

Outside on the stage and throughout the opera house a wind began to blow through, flickering the candles and snuffing out the light. The wind blew into the dressing room from beneath the door’s crack, blowing away the light. Belle paused in her dressing, looking around for some unseen stranger, but he wasn’t a stranger. Not entirely. The darkness began to crowd her and she suddenly felt a fear building inside her. She quickly made her way to the door before being stopped short but a deep voice, singing in a most seductive tone.

She looked around her, hearing unseen music and looking for a familiar shadow she had only seen in what must have been dreams. Belle listened to the words the voice was singing, telling her to look in the mirror. She turned and only saw herself, but the voice that filled her ears was not only seductive, but hypnotic. She couldn’t turn away. Suddenly she did see a shape of someone other than herself. She barely noticed the fog entering the room from the mirror making her head dizzy and her body numb, or the banging on the door from Gaston calling out to her and asking who else was there; but she stood still, watching the image of a man in a dark cloak and mask become more clear. He continued to sing as he held out his hand, and Belle stepped forward slowly, unsure of what to do.

Her hand reached out to his and the music grew louder as she took his hand, and he pulled her into the mirror. She was dazed from the mysterious aura the masked man gave off that she hadn’t realized the mirror was merely a hidden door from which he entered. He led her through the mirror, the music growing louder, and leaving behind the safety she felt in the opera house. She walked behind him in a dream like state, clinging on to every word he sung. Somewhere along she had begun to sing with him and they sung their dark duet as he led her deep into the corridors of the opera house, down many steps until they reached water below. There was a boat waiting for them and the Phantom helped her into it as she sat down and he took the stick, pushing the boat off the shore and rowing them deeper into the catacombs.

They continued to sing their duet through the catacombs as Belle watched lit candles rise from the water. They came into view of what appeared to be a cave, as no man made stone covered the walls. In the middle was a large bed with a canopy draped above, a grand organ rested at the left side and from her daze Belle could see it was covered with sheet music, and candles were everywhere filling the cave with light. The Phantom stopped the boat at the shore, swung his cape off and helped her out carefully.

Belle took his hand and pulled herself closer to him, nearly pressing her body up against his. She stared into his eyes. They were deep brown but held pain and sorrow, making her wonder who had ever hurt him.

“Who are you?” she gently whispered. She knew who he was known as, but she wanted to know the man behind the mask. A man she had only ever seen in her dreams.

“I’m the Phantom.” he simply said.

He pulled her through his home, showing her all of his creations. There was music playing and she wonder if the organ played on its own, or was it her mind creating it. She picked up a paper from a desk and smiled. It was her, beautifully drawn.

“Did you draw this?” she looked at him, who simply stared upon her.

“Yes.”

“It’s wonderful.”

She placed the paper back down, suddenly feeling a strange sense overcome her. Belle walked forward, looking around her and seeing for the first time not a cave filled with many strange and beautiful things, but his home. The Phantom’s home. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

Surely she must have for it all felt so familiar. This couldn’t just be a dream, could it?

“Yes.”

“When I was a child,” she added, “I would hear you sing to me at night. It was beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

She turned around and saw him standing right next to her, his hands gently grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him. Belle closed her eyes and focused on his hands, as they caressed her softly. His hand lifted hers to touch his uncovered cheek. She listened to the music, feeling his touch, letting this strange dream take over.

“Oh Belle,” he murmured sweetly. “so beautiful.”

She opened her eyes and looked not only into his but at his face, taking in every detail before she woke up. He wasn’t entirely young but nor was he old. He was refined looking and quite handsome with a narrow nose and light brown hair that held strands of silver. Truly handsome. Her hand remained on his cheek and she began to lean forward, waiting for her lips touch his.

But he pulled away sharply, letting go her. She watched him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Belle spoke, fearing she had angered him.

_Do not anger the Phantom._

Her mother’s words echoed in her mind as she waited for him to yell. But he had never done so before.

_And this is just a dream_ , she remembered.

“Please,” he didn’t look at but down on the floor, before raising his eyes to her. “you shouldn’t do that again.”

Belle pushed her lips together, “I’m sorry.”

He let out a sigh, stepping up to her again. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her presence.

The Phantom’s body pressed against her and Belle suddenly began to feel dizzy once more. The music was still playing from the organ and for a moment it was all that filled the echoes of the cave, until he spoke.

“Stay with me. Forever.”

Suddenly, Belle’s mind grew faint and her body became limp, falling into his arms. The Phantom lifted her up in his arms, carrying her to his bed. He gently placed her onto the sheets, caressing her face while he sung to her gently. The music and song slowly faded away and he closed the canopy, blocking her from the terrors of night that wished to hurt her.

* * *

 

The door clicked open and Colette entered, placing the key onto the nearest table. She didn’t see her daughter in the room but noticed a slight change in the mirror straight ahead. It was open. She gently closed the door behind her, making sure to create as little noise as possible as to not wake anyone up in the late hour. She walked up to the mirror and carefully opened it a bit wider.  
Rumplestiltskin had come and taken her daughter, and that had her worried. It was not the first time he had stolen her away in the night however, and she continued to feel guilty. She had helped him out of fear and hope for her friend, but mostly for the safety of her daughter. It seemed strange for Madam Emile to believe that her daughter would be safe in the hands of the Opera Ghost, but she knew the man well. Even if it had been ages since they last truly spoke to each other rather than the quick meetings in the hidden corridors. She knew very well how vengeful the man could be for she had seen it before.

She looked down the stone hallway one more time, knowing he wouldn’t bring her daughter back that night, and started to close the mirror shut. But something caught her eye. Another note.

Colette leaned down and picked it up. She hid it away on her person and finished closing the mirror, leaving a slight opening for daughter to return in the morning, and left the room.

Once she made her way to the dormitories and into her own chambers, she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. She scanned the words and let out a sigh. _Oh Rumplestiltskin, please_ , she thought, _Why her?_

* * *

 

Belle fluttered her eyes open, taking a moment to bring herself back to reality. That dream. It wasn’t like the others. It was far more real and mysterious. The music, that voice...that man. She sat herself up, taking a look around. She gasped.

She was still there. She was still in the cave with all the wonder and music. She sat up straighter when she realized. _He_ must still be here as well. She threw her legs over the bed and slowly stood up, somewhat afraid of what was waiting for her. And curious.

Her first few steps were hesitant but became sure as the sense of familiarity overcame her once more. She walked forward and looked around, slowly turning her head towards the organ and gently smiling.

He _was_ real. He was there sitting at the large instrument, working. She hadn’t realized that she let out a gasp until he turned around on the bench, noticing her presence. He looked just as he did last night, only he wasn’t wearing a coat or cloak. Belle felt an odd sense. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, if not slightly nervous of her being awake now. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting her to wake up so soon. Or at all until he returned her home.

Belle walked down the steps and across his cavern home to the organ. The candles that provided his light were still lit and it only gave him a more mysterious aura as it surrounded him in a glow.

The Phantom was nervously shaking, but not so much for her to see. He was scared. Last night he had her in a daze, knowing she only thought it all as a dream; but now she was awake, and he only waited for her to run and scream, begging him to take her home. He nearly froze.

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t expected her to come up behind him, softly placing her delicate fingers running through his hair and placing them on his face, slowly caressing. He fell into her touch, quickly forgetting everything around him.

Belle gently pulled the mask he wore off, curious to what laid beneath. She was thrown back onto the floor seconds later as he jumped up and started to yell. He looked at her furiously, yelling, and throwing his arm as if to hit her while his other hand hid his face.

“DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU TO HELL!”

Belle cowered on the floor, inching away from him but was blocked by the candle stands. He was frightening her and she was afraid he was going to hit her. She couldn’t bear it. But thinking he might never want to see her again hurt her more.

“How dare you?! You little viper! You demon!”

She gasped and began to cry. Was this the Phantom? Or her stranger?

“How could you? Now you can never leave!”

She looked up. His voice had hitched and she could see that he was beginning to cry, but still angry and still wanting to yell.

“How could you?” He fell to his knees, turning his back towards her. He tried to control his sobs but it hurt too much.

He had trusted her. Trusted her to accept him and not look beneath the mask, but he knew her well enough. He had not told her never to look. He had not told her anything, and her curiosity was too much to control. But he couldn’t hate her, even if he wanted to right now.

He was interrupted by gasp and crying, but not his own. It was Belle. He had frightened her and that made it all much worse. He took some breaths, giving himself a moment to get his composure back. She couldn’t see him like this. Sad, pathetic, and hurt. _Why? Why did she have to take off the mask?! Why couldn’t she leave things be?!_

“Never,” he spoke the best he could through his tears, “never look again. Please.”

Belle watched his back, straining to hear his words. Her fear was leaving, if not simply fading. She hurt him. And that hurt her.

She let out a cry. “I’m so sorry. I--I promise. I’ll never look.”

They remained silent, both still crying but their breaths returning. She moved her fingers and realized that she still held his mask. She looked down at the white form, half of a face, and lifted it up.

“H-here.” She sobbed, her breath hitching.

He barely turned but held out his hand, taking the mask from her and placing it back on his face. He let out a sigh and stood up. Belle saw his face, covered once more from her mistake, and she suddenly felt more horrible. His eyes looked like he was beaten, and he refused to get back up.

_Who hurt this man?_ she wondered.

He simply stood there, as if waiting for her to get up. They had both stopped crying, but her face was still soaked with tears, her body still slightly shaking.

“Come,” he spoke in a sure voice, “we must go. Those new fools...will be missing you.”

* * *

 

A little shorter than the last one, but not bad. I’m.....I’m really not sure what to say about this chapter. Those who look at the Rumbelle fandom already have some awkwardness with the age difference, and I’m not sure this chapter helps (since he practically drugged her, but I’m going by the movie....soooo.....yeah).

Now I have said all I can. Please review :)


	3. Amiable Warnings

The next day Francis stormed into the Opera Populaire. It was only his second day and already there was trouble. First their leading soprano Manette Bibeau had yet to return after yesterday’s events and now, their current star was missing. No one had seen Belle since last night after Gaston reported her gone. He had not told the police and authorities of what he heard behind the door however, since he didn’t want to cause a disturbance throughout the town or the opera house. The news of the missing fiance of the Opera Populaire’s benefactor and the leading star of last night’s production wouldn’t do good for their business. To make matters worse, Francis was given a letter that morning before he left the house that was signed by a person who went by O.G. He was baffled and quite furious already by the events taking place, but for someone to mock him about it was outrageous.

Nearly running up the steps and into the grand building, he practically yelled at a working bystander asking for Victor.

“Damn!” he heard a shout coming from the halls.

Francis turned to see Victor waving his own letter in the air as he rushed to his business partner’s side.

“This is damnable!”

“Victor, please, do not shout.” Francis pulled the man to the side.

“But this is absurd! First Manette leaves and now Belle! What will we do?! We have no cast!”

“Do please be quiet, I don’t want to cause to much alarm. Plus, look at it like this. It’s free publicity.”

Francis smiled, looking down at the man’s hands. “Ah, I see you have too.”

Victor realized what he meant and grimaced, opening the letter to read out loud.

“Gentlemen, I must inform you what you should already know. Belle was exquisite last night and we were hardly dismayed when Manette left. On that note, why must you cast her when she is seasons past her prime? O.G.”

Francis returned the grimace and read his letter. “Gentlemen, I would remind you only once that Box Five is not yours to use as you wish, and must remain open for the next performance. Also, my salary has not been paid. No one likes a debtor, so I suggest you heed this warning. O.G.”

Both man nearly screamed in frustration. Their new business was not only starting out with a missing exquisite star, as this mysterious O.G has pointed out, but they were being attacked by this phantom that so many believe was living in the opera house. _His_ opera house as some have reminded them. Truly it was ludicrous.

“What shall we do Francis? This is no way to run a business!”

“Where is she?!”

The men were interrupted as they turned to see the Viscount storming into the building, and from the looks of it he was holding his own letter as well. They could only guess who sent it.

“Who?” Francis called out.

“Belle! Where is she? I assume you sent me this note?”

Gaston made his way up the stairs to the managers, handing Victor his letter who read it aloud to the men and the few bystanding workers who were eavesdropping on this little play.

“Dear Viscount, do not fear. My Belle is safe where she belongs. You will no longer be seeing her beyond the performances. If you do care for her, I suggest you do not look for her. O.G.”

“His Belle?! This is an outrage! Where is she? I want to see her now!” Gaston yelled.

“Well we don’t know where she is.” Francis assured the younger man, nervous by the demanding demeanor the Viscount was giving off. “We didn’t send this.”

“If you didn’t, than who did?”

Before either man could answer Gaston, yet another voice called out demanding to see the two managers.

“What now?” Victor complained, wishing for this horrid moment to end so his nerves could settle.

“Who sent this?!” Manette called out.

“Oh great! I assume you got one too?” Francis whined.

“A letter? Yes. From the Viscount no doubt.”

“Excuse me?” Gaston exclaimed.

“I got your letter. This is an outrage!”

“Good god in heaven, what is going on?”

Francis ignored his partner and took the letter from Manette, as she argued with Gaston. He cleared his throat to gather everyone’s attention before reading out loud.

“I would like to inform you that you will no longer be taking your spot on the center stage. Belle Emile will be taking your place-”

“Belle!” Manette hissed, as to emphasize her distaste.

“-in the new production, but you are free to assume a place within the dancers. Perhaps it shall be better than your atrocious voice. Until then, I remain your host, O.G.”

Everyone paused as Manette took several breaths, forcing herself to remain calm. Gaston was the first to speak against the letters.

“Who is this O.G?”

Francis and Victor passed a long glance at each other before coming to the realization.

“Ah! Opera Ghost!” They both exclaimed.

Manette let out a gasp as Gaston merely groaned. “This is ridiculous.”

“Of--of course sire!” Victor composed himself. “There is no such thing as a ghost.”

“And why would one take residence in an opera house?” Francis added.

“It matters not. I wish to see Belle. Now!”

“Senor, we don’t know where she is.”

Gaston glared at Victor, who cowarded inwardly under his presence.

“No one has seen her since last night. And you were the last one.”

“Ah ha!”

The men turned towards the former leading star.

“I knew it!” Manette cried out, near to tears. “This is his fault! He pushed her onto that stage. He made her the star.” She laced the last word with venom, baring her teeth. “He’s the reason this is all happening!”

Gaston scoffed. “Belle is my fiance! Why would I want her gone? Even after allowing her to become the star? Clearly, your jealousy is clouding what little judgment you have.”

“Jealous?! How dare you!”

“Francis, what shall we do?”

Soon all four were arguing among themselves, Gaston with Manette and Victor with Francis. Workers soon left the scene, most likely to spread the news through the opera house of what they had just learned. Manette continued to accuse Gaston of the taking away her stardom when Francis spoke up to calm the diva.

“Manette, our beauty! Please, we shall not let this...this ghost ruin our opera house! Or your good name!”

Manette slightly glared at the managers, as if making sure they were going to say something wise for once and babble as they usually did.

“We’ve had too many notes for today,” Victor spoke up. “and it seems all we have heard is Belle Emile’s name-”

“Belle has returned.”

All four heads spun towards the newest voice to see Madam Emile, Belle’s mother, standing at the bottom of the grand stairs with young Mae standing next to her.

“What?!” They all shouted at once.

Gaston stepped forward. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

Colette held up her hands. “I apologize, she will see no one.”

“She needed rest.” Mae added.

“She is doing well?” Francis asked.

“Will she sing?” Manette and Victor asked at once.

Madam Emile sighed. “Here, I have a note.”

“Let me see it!”

The old lady hadn’t expected everyone to say it at once, but it wasn’t until then had she seen all the letters they were holding as well. Now her letter made much more sense, but she wouldn’t tell them that it was actually her second letter from the Phantom; this one far less friendly. All four had headed to her at once to take the letter she was holding out for them, but she handed it to Francis who had managed to say please.

He opened the letter and read it out loud. “Dear Friends, I have sent you many amiable notes telling you what should be done to ensure the opera house’s success in the next play. I suggest these are followed to the letter. You may have my Belle back for the next performance, but know she will be back in my care each and every night, unless I say otherwise. And to the managers, another reminder for my salary. Until then, O.G.”

Everyone paused for a moment to grasp the meaning of all the letters, each giving their own explanation or outburst about it.

“ _My_ Belle?! Every night?!”

“Amiable?”

“His salary again? How much is he wanting exactly?”

“Belle! It’s always Belle!”

“Manette will be playing the lead!” Francis called out over everyone, gathering their attention.

“What?” Victor asked besides him.

“Manette will be playing the lead. Belle will be a dancer.”

While the former star seemed to be calmed by this demand, Francis had not cared to notice the worried and shocked expression of the mother. Or the confused look of the fiance, who did not favor Belle being brought to center stage only for her to be taken off again to be a dancer by the mere threat of a ghost.

“This is an outrage.”

“I think it’s fair.” Manette side glanced to the Viscount. “The little twerp should be here to defend herself.”

“Do not call her a twerp!” Both Gaston and Colette retorted.

“It matters not! We need to get ready for tonight.”

The managers led the star to the changing rooms of the opera house while they informed the crew and staff of the changes. Mae followed them while Gaston stayed behind to talk to Madam Emile.

“Please, I just wish to see her for a moment.”

Colette sighed. “I’m sorry, but she needs her rest.”

She turned to leave, only for him to grab her arm. Not too tight to hurt the woman, but enough to make her stop and turn back towards him.

“I suggest you don’t forget our deal.” He didn’t grin like he wanted to. “Belle is my fiance-”

“Oh I haven’t forgotten, but there is something you must understand, Viscount.”

Colette quickly glanced around the lobby, glad that the workers had already left earlier so they wouldn’t overhear this bit of the conversation.

“And what exactly is that, Madam?”

“There is a deal I made long ago that holds a higher power than yours.”

She tried to leave but Gaston continued to hold on to her. “You mean to the Phantom?”

Colette stared at him shockingly, but only for a moment.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you sneak away when ever _anything_ that has to do with Phantom happens. Where were you going to go now?”

“To check on my daughter.” Colette pulled her arm out of his grip, speaking in a firm tone.

“Than seeing as I am not only the opera house’s benefactor, but Belle’s fiance _and_ the one giving you and the performers a place to live, I guess you won’t mind if I come with you.”

They glared at each other for a moment when Colette gave in. Although she knew she couldn’t anger the Phantom, it wasn’t best at the moment to anger the Viscount either. Not with that particular threat over her and the opera house. She only wished her daughter would understand.

“Very well.”

* * *

Belle couldn’t go back to sleep. Not after this morning, and she wasn’t sure what bother her more. Seeing what was beneath the mask, or how he yelled at her and truly terrifying her for the first time in her life. She supposed for a moment there she did lose consciousness because she hadn’t remembered entering her room. Perhaps the Phantom hadn’t wanted her to remember where he lived. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Part of her was afraid for the first time ever of the Opera Ghost, while the other was still mesmerized and intrigued, wanting to know more of the scarred man. She guessed he would never tell her, but someone must have hurt him a long time ago. She only wished she knew who.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Belle heard a knock on the door and she sat up in her bed to see her mother and Gaston enter. As usual, her mother’s look of disdain appeared whenever Gaston was near her. Belle never understood why. She knew her mother didn’t approve of how she let Gaston sleep around her while they were engaged but she had already given her mother her answer to that. Perhaps she was just being that, a mother.

“Mother. Gaston.”

“Oh Belle.” Gaston quickly made his way to the side of her bed, taking her hand in his. “How do you feel?”

Belle pushed her lips together in a thin line. “Um, much better.”

She wasn’t sure what all he knew of last night, as she only not to long ago remembered that he was calling out to her when the Phantom visited.

“I had come back to take you to the carriage but....you were not there.”

Belle glanced to her mother behind him who was standing by the door. Colette merely glanced back at her before leaving and quietly shutting the door, leaving the two alone.

“Yes, I apologize Gaston.”

He gave a peck on her lips. “It’s no worries my Belle. You are better now and can perform.”

“Perform?”

Gaston chuckled. “Why yes. For the production tonight.”

“Gaston, I was just told by Mae that I will not be singing, but dancing.”

Her fiance scoffed. “Worry not about that. I will have that fix. It was just a mistake. Now you must get some rest. I won’t my fiance feeling ill.”

He got to leave when Belle called out his name.

“Gaston, wait.”

He turned around. “Yes?”

Belle paused. “Um, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For checking up on me.”

“Why would I not? You are my fiance.”

Belle tried to smile. “As you often remind me.”

Gaston paused before taking his place back by her bedside.

“Belle, do you not wish for us to be married?”

She looked at him shocked. Where did that question come from? Did Gaston and her mother have another argument? She knew very well how they didn’t like each other--she just wish she knew why--and thought they were rather foolish for thinking she was ignorant to their disagreements.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you never seem to be happy around me.”

Belle was surprised. Gaston never looked so saddened before. She wasn’t use to this.

“I’m not sure-”

“Whatever you need, or want, I will give it to you Belle. You only need to tell me.”

Gaston held her hands, giving them a squeeze.

“I know I may not be the best of men, and not entirely faithful as you well know,” Belle smirked. “but I will be a good husband. You just need to trust me.”

Belle looked at him, and into his eyes. She knew he could be. Her mother has told her before, but it just wasn’t love. But perhaps, she could learn to love him?

“I apologize Gaston. I guess I haven’t really been trying to be happy. I will do better, I promise.”

Gaston smiled. He leaned forward and gave her another kiss, deeper than the one before.

“Thank you my Belle. After the performance, I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait. Until then, rest and do well.”

As the Viscount left Colette made her way back into her daughter’s room, noticing how Belle looked somewhat confused.

“Is everything alright sweetheart?”

Belle looked up at her mother. “Oh, yes. It’s just...Gaston.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure.”

Colette wanted to say she imagined it but she was certain that for the first time since the engagement, Belle smiled. It was small and slight and one could easily miss it, but it was there.

* * *

As usual before a performance the opera house was busy. Everyone was scrambling to get the last minute touches on the dresses and the props. Thanks to her mother Belle had no problem quickly getting into her outfit for the dancing scene and her and Mae were ready for the curtain to rise. So no one noticed when Jacques slipped into the shadows. Having noticed a shadowy figure moving through the subtle lighting, and believing it to be the Phantom, he spent the opening of the play searching for the ghost.

Gaston watched the performance from Box Five, smiling and laughing at the comedy as the actors played their ridiculous parts. It was a nice change for everyone, both performers and watchers, to loosen up and have a laugh at the opera rather than everything be taken seriously. However, to his regret--and despite him playing the ‘benefactor’ card--the managers were too afraid to allow Belle to take the lead. But to their protest, it was in fear of their star Manette leaving once again rather than some ridiculous notion of a ghost. So Gaston watched his beautiful fiance dancing among the sheep and other shepherd ballerinas.

Suddenly, a loud and rather calm voice covered the room.

“Did I not mention....that Box Five was to be kept empty?”

Everyone froze. Gaston looked around, hoping to find this ghost who was to afraid to show himself. The spectators and performers gasped, knowing very well who it was as the legend of the ghost never remained in the opera house.

“It’s him. It’s the Phantom.” Belle muttered.

“Silence, toad!” Manette barked at her.

Quickly everyone managed to settle down and the show resumed. Jacques, having been the only one to actually see the ghost when he spoke, followed the shadowy figure back into the shadows. Music played and ballerinas twirled and everyone was blissful to the chase happening among the riggers and ropes above.

“Where are you?” Jacques whispered. A chill quickly fell down his spine and he turned around, meeting the eyes and masked face of the exact man he was searching for.

Gasping, careful not to scream, he turned and began to run, hoping to lose the Phantom among his own stage. But Jacques did not know just how well the Phantom knew these ropes himself. The music gave a sense to their chase and the comedic lyrics made the Phantom want to laugh at the irony of the situation. He enjoyed a good chase and this fool was proving to be an excellent player.

Rumplestiltskin smiled each and every time he trapped the poor man, only to let him escape, but only for a moment. They climbed the robes, ran over the boards and rigs, the crescendo in the music growing louder. He made his way behind the man at a distance and his smile grew more sinister when he saw the man trip over some boards, and to his luck it was right above the stage. He grabbed some rope and quickly placed is over the man’s neck before he could call out for help.

Without warning, screams from all directions were heard as a body dropped above the stage but never fell. Belle’s heard dropped and Gaston through the opera house to grab her. Orders were shouted and people were running, making Gaston have to push through the crowds as he and Belle made their way to the roof of the opera house.

“Belle! Are you alight?!” Gaston cupped her face, pulling her towards him.

She was gasping and crying all at once, not sure what to say. People were crying out how it was the Phantom who killed Jacques. The Phantom of the Opera.

But could he truly be the stranger in her dreams? The man who sang to her so beautifully the night before, who showed her such wonder and beauty and invited her into his home?

_Do not anger the Phantom._

She wonder what Jacques could have possibly done to deserve such a fate, but Gaston’s voice gave her another thought.

“Don’t worry Belle, that madman won’t hurt you here.”

_Madman_. Was the Phantom really such? Was he truly a madman and a monster as everyone feared?

“Gaston.” She whispered in his chest. She clinged on to him and spoke his name, but it was not his face she would see when she closed her eyes.

“Belle,” he slowly lifted her chin to make her look at him. “you’re safe now.”

_Safe now_. Was she not before?

“Gaston, there is something I must tell you.”

“Don’t. Let’s not worry about it now.”

“But-”

“Belle,” he smiled. “I won’t let this Phantom hurt you. I won’t let him take you away from me again.”

She gasped. “You knew?”

“Yes, but it’s over now. You don’t ever have to see such awful things again.”

Belle stepped back, stilling holding his arms. Her mind began to wonder and remember. “It wasn’t all awful.”

She slowly began to walk away, her eyes looking into some unknown distance, but she quickly came back to the roof of the opera house when she heard her name being sung. But not by Gaston.

“Belle,” Gaston walked towards her and took her hand again, “forget about that nightmare. Forget what you saw. I’m here, and I will protect you.”

Gaston took her hand and opened it, placing an object inside before closing it over it. Belle turned towards him, having felt what he did, and opened her palm to see a diamond ring.

“Belle, I know were are already engaged, but I never did make it official.”

“You announced it.” She looked up at him.

He chuckled. “Yes, but this is to show everyone. Belle, I meant what I said earlier today. I will be a good husband, and I do love you. Just give me a chance.”

She gave a small smile. “Very well.”

Gaston gave her a kiss and picked her up, twirling her around and he was glad to see that it made her smile and giggle. They laughed and danced in the snow that was beginning to fall.

“We need to go back. Mother will be wondering where I am.”

They left the roof and headed back into the opera house, not seeing the dark figure stepping from out of the shadows.

“Oh Belle,” Rumplestiltskin cried. He knelt down onto the roof, forcing himself not to listen to the echoes of Belle and Gaston’s laughter or the memory of their kiss.

Anger began to boil in him and the fear and memory of being lost and alone began to resurface. He refused to go back to such a state. She promised. She promised that Belle would be his but Rumplestiltskin knew that even she couldn’t decide her daughter’s fate. Belle was strong like that and he loved her dearly for it. She was his strength and for the brief moment he had last night, she was his light.

He couldn’t lose her again. He wouldn’t.

The Phantom looked up into the sky, images of Belle, Colette, and Gaston flashing in his mind. “You will all curse this day....if Belle is not mine!”

* * *

**_A/N:_ ** Alright, sorry for the late update. I had gotten really sick last week and still managing the last bit of it. Let me tell you, Tourette’s and the cold DO NOT mix well. I almost got bronchitis last night and was close to losing my voice throughout the week. So on that note, I will like to remind everyone a few things.

1.Always wash your hands to prevent germs and cover your mouth when coughing.  
2.Make sure to have a thermometer handy at night to check if you have a sudden flash of heat. It is cold and allergy season. I had a 101 temperature one night.  
3.EVEN if you don’t think you will get sick, ALWAYS be stocked up. Make sure you have enough cough medicine, allergy tablets, and cough drops. Both of my parents are nurses and they were ashamed that they could only find one cough drop throughout the house for me. Be prepared.

Now, back to the story, here is an A/N:

I know this chapter sounds very pro-Gaston, but we’re not halfway done yet. I don’t think so at least. I know the chapters are long and according to the movie we are already halfway through it. However, I already plan to make it longer so I’m not sure how many chapters I will have. There are only three and in terms of the movie, a lot has happened. I’m hoping to get to the history behind Colette and Rumplestiltskin in the next chapter.

Also, here is a bit of trivia to who is who in the story:

Manette--Zelena

Jacques--Killian (yes, I made him that character so he could be killed by Rumple. For those who know me already I despise the pirate and love the imp)

Mae--Emma

Victor--Whale (because it just felt like it fit)

Francis--David

And sorry if the chapters are long. I wasn’t really sure where to end this one but I felt like it was a good spot. Please review and let me know what you think. Thank you.


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